Blaze
by rotorviator
Summary: Oneshot, IchiIshi.    ...Unfortunately or fortunately, Ichigo notices.


**A/N: IchiIshi. Fluff. Fluffflufffluff. Don't say you weren't warned.**

It was an infestation, dozens of huge brute Hollows swarming around them and thirsting to rip them apart. Winter, too, so the air was sharp and their faces pink and their eyes bright with the bite of the cold. They had tracked down the horde in a far-flung corner of the forest, where the land was flat and unusually barren, and with a well-worn look of understanding between them, they'd begun. Ichigo ripped through a towering, boar-faced one in an easy swing, and Ishida saw, not for the first time, the inherent grace and fluidity in every movement the boy made. He brought back an arrow and annihilated a Hollow that was trying to curl behind Ichigo and knock his head off his shoulders. He was thrown a wide, crooked grin in return. That, he considered, was more than good enough a reward.

They fought for a long time, neither tiring much, each in his element and revelling in the act of their duty. Hollow disintegrated after one another, showers of ash falling near-constantly in the corners of their eyes. Ichigo laughed, shortly, as a particularly ugly specimen hurled itself through the air towards him, and he spun to face it and decapitated it with (what seemed like) little more than a flick of his wrist. Ishida had to snap his gaze away. He could feel his cheeks warming; it felt like burning, in the cold air, and he turned so that Ichigo wouldn't notice the sudden colour.

Ichigo noticed.

He also noticed Ishida's hands. And his back. Funny, to be honest, but if you'd seen, if you'd been there – his hands were long and supple and fiercely sure. His back was always straight. He stood tall every moment of the fight, and faced each opponent with a wilful glare and a posture you could line a ruler with.

There was something about that glare, Ichigo had decided, a long time ago.

Eventually, they had hacked through every beast that had tried to hack through them, and it was night-time when calm prevailed. They moved back from the centre of their battlefield, and stumbled to the base of a giant, twisted tree. Ichigo immediately slumped to the ground and sat sprawled with his head tilted back, breathing in lungfuls of air and smiling faintly and looking at nothing. He was flushed, glowing – Ishida stood, leaning back against the bark, and closed his eyes. It wouldn't do to stare.

(When he wasn't looking, it didn't occur to him that he would be being stared at himself.)

"Why don'tcha sit down?" Ichigo looked up at him, and motioned to the ground beside himself.

"I'm fine here," he replied shortly, keeping his eyes stubbornly closed. Unseen by him, Ichigo rolled his eyes, then reached up and grabbed his wrist and yanked; Ishida stumbled and fell roughly, and landed with a _thump_ beside him. He couldn't let himself look at the shinigami – who still had his hand wrapped round Ishida's wrist, like he didn't even notice – otherwise he knew he'd slip up somehow, he'd stutter or blush furiously or say something incredibly stupid.

"You're warm," said Ichigo idly, and Ishida looked at him in surprise.

"Because of you," replied Ishida, and then his eyes widened as he realised what he had just said. Ah, something incredibly stupid. Just like that.

"Tche," Ichigo muttered, (who still hadn't let go of his wrist, Ishida was mentally cursing, and trying very hard to ignore the feel of his fingers), and wouldn't look him in the eye. They were close, now; their sides pressed together, limbs brushing, heads close. It felt like they were overlapping. The sky was black and starlit above them; each other's face near enough to have features picked out in moonlight, but it was too dark for them to be easily readable.

More's the pity, thought Ichigo, 'cause I'd kill to know what he's thinking right this second. Then again, where did thinking ever get me? Good point, he reasoned.

He pushed his lips against Ishida's in one swift, shaky movement. He felt Ishida tense; he moved back, just a little, eyes downcast, and leant in to graze his lips across the Quincy's again.

There was a silence, roaring between them. Ishida could hear his own heart beating, and his breathing was ragged, as if he'd forgotten how to drag oxygen into his lungs. Inside his head ran a thousand crazed thoughts, until he made a desperate attempt to gather himself together, and decided there was only one way out of this mess. Only one course of action to take.

He grabbed Ichigo by the front of his uniform and glared at him with eyes full of fire. Ichigo didn't even try not to find that oddly attractive; his train of thought was derailed in the vivid, sweet explosion of Ishida hauling him closer and kissing him senseless.


End file.
